The Dracula Illusion

Chapter Eleven: Death in Whitby

The Dracula Illusion contains graphic scenes that some readers may find distressing.

Death in Whitby

I persuaded Toni to come home. She had spent the night at the New Forest in a small B&B. She said she felt much better and wanted to put the whole experience behind her. Last night we had a nice evening together, making up and enjoying one another’s company. We had good food, good wine, and great sex. Xander was with me, with his presence. I was Xander’s conduit: the shell, the outward appearance, recognisable to Toni as Robert but internally the landscape had been remapped. It was now Xander’s. I embraced him fully.

     Xander took control. Xander pleasured Toni beyond anything that I could have done. It was surreal to be having sex with her and feel Xander through me, penetrating, pleasuring, bringing Toni to screaming orgasms. This overtly sexual expression was a side to Toni that I didn’t recognise. She was in such control; reacting and driving the sexual rhythm. To my surprise, she punctured the skin of Xander’s back with her nails; bit his ear so hard it throbbed; and dominated him. Toni possessed Xander. I both loved and hated her in that moment. I was enraged with jealousy: she was fucking Xander freely. But I loved her. It was intoxicating and thrilling.

     I relinquished all idea of me and Toni and embraced Toni and Xander.

     “About last night, Robert,” Toni said. We were driving, heading to Whitby. We had just joined the motorway again having stopped for a coffee at the services.

     “Yes,” I said.

     “I want to be honest with you. It was like I was fucking you, but it wasn’t you. I had this image of another man in my mind. I don’t know why.”

     “Was it someone you know?”

     “No. Truthfully, no.”

     “Can you describe him?”

     “Well, yes and no. I could see his blue eyes, really deep blue, looking at me. And striking, silver hair.”

     “Why are you telling me this?”

     “Because it’s driving me crazy. He’s driving me crazy. I dreamt about him all night. Thought about him the moment I woke up. I sucked your dick thinking it was his. But look, I didn’t want to see him; I just couldn’t imagine anything else. I feel crazy.”

     I said nothing.

     “It’s so intense. I feel him now: all over me, inside me. It’s like he’s reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart.”

     I rubbed Toni’s leg. “Come on, think about something else.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

     We didn’t speak for a while. I drove knowing Xander was inside her; but I wanted him just for me. It had been two days since I last saw him at Boxgrove Priory. I missed him.

     Toni put on a CD, one of those driving compilations, sang softly to the first two songs and then, when I looked at her, had closed her eyes.

     Soon she was asleep.

     I rubbed my face and sighed. I needed to focus on my fate.

     “Keep coming, dear, keep coming,” Xander said in my mind.

     “I’m trying. I want to please you. I can’t . . . I can . . . I must do what you require, Xander. I want to learn everything about you. I want to uncover you and write about your life. I want to be the only one who knows everything about you.”

     “Good. Remember you are mine. We will have a life together. A life without Toni. You don’t need her anymore. I need her; I will have her. I will have her.”

     As Xander stopped speaking, I heard Toni moan lightly. She was still asleep. There was nothing I could do except listen to Xander pleasuring Toni in her dreams. I gripped the steering wheel. I wasn’t jealous of Xander – how could I be? – I was jealous of Toni. How could she take him away from me? Did she know?

     Did she know about everything?

     Had she read Xander’s book?

     No, surely not. She wouldn’t have come back home because she would have learned, like I did, that Xander wanted her.

     Let me in Xander. You can have me for all time.

     Toni moaned, softly again; but soon she filled the car with loud, free, orgasms.

     “Shut up!” I shouted.

     I thought she was asleep. It took me a moment to realise that she wasn’t.

     She was hypnotised.

     “He’s fucking me again, Robert,” she said. “I’m fucking him.”

     Toni looked at me. Her eyes rolled upwards as she closed them in a state of bliss. She arched her back – pushing her breasts into the seatbelt.

     “Xander,” Toni said as she slipped her hand down her pants. I had to concentrate on the road. “Xander, fuck me.”

     “No, Xander,” I said in my mind. “I want you.”

     My pleading didn’t make a difference.

     “She is mine,” Xander said. “Bring her to me, Robert. You mustn’t stop. I want you here.”

     “I want to be with you,” Toni said. She spoke between deep breaths and releases of ecstasy. “Make me cum,” she said and masturbated next to me.

     I was enraged. I hit the fast lane. Accelerating hard. I wanted to please Xander. I hated her moaning next to me. Iwanted Xander. He was mine; not hers.

     “Don’t kill her yet, Robert,” Xander said to me. I thought about smashing her head off the window. It was becoming unbearable. “Not yet. Relax, Robert, relax . . . That’s it. Sit back. Turn your music up. I’ll take care of her for now, my darling. Bring her to me. Robert, I promise you, we will have a great life together.”

*

We got to Whitby late.

     I stood outside Xander’s home on East Terrace feeling the cold wind which powered across the North Sea and up the West Cliff into my face. It encircled me, blew through my hair, and caused my eyes to water.

     Xander was right: I felt his awesome presence. He pulsed through me.

     I left Toni in the car – she was sleeping heavily, still, I figured, under Xander’s power – walked up the steps and knocked the door. I was behaving as it was demanded of me: I was consciously aware that I was heading along the path which Xander laid out for me. All I had to do to please him was walk it.

     “Good evening, sir. I am William. We have been expecting you. Please enter. I will take your bags and see to it that the lady is taken to where Xander wishes her to be . . . Please enter,” William said again.

     “Sorry. Yes. Thank you.”

     William stepped past me, and I walked into the foyer. It was uncanny to be standing in Xander’s home. To be in Whitby. I had the strangest sense of déjà vu as I looked around and breathed in Xander’s world. In fact, déjà vu didn’t describe the intensity of it all. It was as though I had been reincarnated time and time again, living out the same life, over and over; always walking this path, this well-trodden path, and straight into Xander’s heart.

     I glanced at the blue Victorian floor lamp. I had seen before how it bathed the red rug in a low, moody light; and how the light barely reached the paintings on the walls. I saw the stairs ahead of me and to my right was the living room. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata began to play as I entered.

     I knew Xander wouldn’t be there – he would walk in behind me momentarily. I saw the record player on its wooden stand, presumably where the phonograph used to be, next to the mahogany sofa where Edith and Eleanor were killed in 1890. 1890: also, the year when Xander met Bram Stoker. I felt as old as Xander Farold: his memories were my memories.

     We had become one.